


Questions Never Asked

by FalconLux



Series: W.I.P. Collection [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon thru Order of the Phoenix, Dark Harry, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, No DH, No HBP, Post-Order of the Phoenix AU, Slight Molly Weasley bashing, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing, Tags May Change, Work In Progress, rating may increase, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconLux/pseuds/FalconLux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry Potter Addresses the Wizarding World" - Harry's letter to the Daily Prophet during the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts will drastically change the course of the war.</p><p>WARNING: This is a W.I.P.  It is not finished.  It may never be finished or even updated.  It is currently at about 9,000 words over three chapters, which will be posted soon.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter Addresses the Wizarding World**

_What follows is a statement that was placed in this reporter’s hand early this morning by Harry Potter himself._

My name is Harry Potter.  If you know that name, then you are among those I wish to address.  The purpose of this missive is to answer questions that I have never been asked.  By anyone in the wizarding world in my entire life.  No doubt these questions will surprise you, as I imagine many of you fancy that you already know the answers.  Answers I have never before given to questions I have never been asked.

These questions are quite simple, and are as follows:

  * Who is Harry Potter, as a person?  Where does he come from?
  * What does Harry Potter believe in?  What does he care about?
  * What does Harry Potter want from this war?  From his future?



And now, I shall answer them.

I have done some reading about myself this summer.  I was actually rather astounded by how many books were written about me.  They are, by large, highly imaginative works of fiction.  In fact, I feel obliged to mention that if you have authored one of these stories about me, you will want to contact my solicitor as soon as possible.  Anyone who has not done so in two weeks, or has failed to come to an amiable solution, will be sued for Libel, among other things.  The _Daily Prophet_ will be able to direct you properly if you seek to address this issue before charges are filed.

Moving on, most of you probably know the story of the events that took place on 31 October 1981 in Godric’s Hallow.  Or, at least, you think you know.

Let me be perfectly honest with you.  Exactly what happened that night, _no one knows_.  What I specifically remember is the Killing Curse being cast at me, hitting me in the forehead, and reflecting back onto the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who].  It was incredibly painful for me.  [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s] body was destroyed by his own curse.

As I said, I don’t know _why_ the Killing Curse failed to kill me, or why it turned on its caster.

Now we move on to the part of the story that very, very few people know.  What happened to me after that night?  Where was the Boy-Who-Lived while you were all celebrating the so-called end of the war?  I was sitting on a doorstep, in the middle of the night, in November, all alone.  The doorstep of my mother’s estranged muggle sister – a woman who hated my mother and everything to do with magic and the magical world.  That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, _that_ is where the esteemed Albus Dumbledore left your supposed savior.

It would be four years before I discovered that I had a proper name, because my relatives did not deign to call me anything kinder than “Freak” or “Boy”.  And believe me, those were the kindest of the slurs they directed at me.  I only discovered my name when I began muggle primary school.  In fact, I believe, to this day, the closest my aunt and uncle have come to addressing me by name is “Potter”, but even that is highly rare.

I will spare you the details of my years with my muggle relatives, but you may extrapolate much from my uncle’s admission that he had tried to “beat the Freakishness” out of me.  By “Freakishness”, of course, he meant my magic.  Luckily, in that, he failed.

I did not learn that there was such a thing as a wizarding world until I was eleven years old.  After I received my Hogwarts letter and was then given a crash course in everything I’d missed by Rubeus Hagrid rather than a proper muggleborn initiation.  Please, don’t mistake me.  I hold no animosity toward Hagrid.  I do, in fact, consider him my very first friend, but he told me little upon my introduction into the wizarding world beyond the biased propaganda of the manipulative headmaster of Hogwarts.

Well, I think that gives you a decent idea of where I come from, so I’ll move on to my next question.

What do I believe in and care about?

This is a question that, prior to this summer, I’d never actually stopped to even ask of myself.  I was surprised by how difficult it was to answer it truthfully without automatically spewing forth the things Albus Dumbledore has spent years conditioning me to _think_ that I cared about.

What do I believe in?  I believe that the world – muggle and wizarding both – is a cruel place in which people trust blindly in those they should not.  And condemn without question, those who do not deserve it.  It's a world who hoisted onto a pedestal an orphaned child, then left him to grow up in hell without ever thinking to question one scheming old man.  A world in which “respectable” people turn a blind eye to the bruises on a neighborhood child because it is easier than asking uncomfortable questions.

We live in a world in which genial villains are lauded for imagined morals while fallen heroes are condemned for crimes comprised entirely of hearsay.  We live in a world where so few ever question what they are told that _justice_ can never be more than public relations.

If you are confused or concerned by this opinion, please allow me to explain my reasoning.

In 1981, my parents, Lily and James Potter, were placed under the Fidelius Charm to protect themselves and me after it became understood by Albus Dumbledore that I was one of the most likely subjects of a prophecy concerning the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who].  The precise details of this prophecy are unimportant to this story, but I will say that it stated that myself or the other possible boy of the prophecy was said to be capable of defeating the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who].  The reason that we were in danger was because Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] heard this as well.

My parents were unfortunate enough to trust the wrong man with the Secret of our location.  And no, I’m not talking about Sirius Black.  He was just the unfortunate scapegoat.  The traitor was Peter Pettigrew, who was alive and well a year ago.  I doubt that’s changed.  How do I know this, you ask?  Well, I have it from his own lips, in a desperate confession given to me two years ago before he was unfortunately able to escape.  Sirius Black, was in fact, an innocent man, a dedicated auror, and a good and loyal friend, guilty only of acting rashly in his grief and rage at Peter’s betrayal. 

After the deaths of my parents, Sirius went in search of the traitor that had cost them their lives.  When he finally cornered him, Pettigrew killed twelve muggles in the street to serve as a distraction so that he could transform into his unregistered animagus form – a rat – and escape into the sewers, leaving Sirius to take the blame.  Pettigrew left behind a single finger he had personally severed in order to complete the façade of his death.

Upon Pettigrew’s escape, Sirius began to ramble in his grief and guilt that he had killed his friends, and he believed it at the time.  You see, it was Sirius who convinced them that Pettigrew would be a less obvious choice for Secret Keeper.  His attempt to help protect them had ended in tragedy, and he blamed himself.  But he never betrayed them.

Following those events, Sirius Black was summarily sentenced to Azkaban for life and it became common knowledge that he had been [You-Know-Who’s] “right hand man”.  He was never given a trial.  He was never questioned under Veritaserum.  They did not even check to see that he did not bear the Dark Mark.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was a grave miscarriage of justice perpetrated by the late Bartemius Crouch Sr. then Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the previous Mister Bagnold.

Sirius Black was killed two months ago in the process of saving my life.

The only adult who ever proved to me that he cared about me because of who I am rather than what I am or what I might be, died a hero’s death and is still condemned for a crime he did not commit, simply because no one ever gave him a chance to speak his side of the story.  Just as no one has ever given me a chance to be other than they expect.

Something is wrong with this world in which we live.  It is a world in which our leaders in the Ministry do as they please, acting out of fear and personal ambition rather than in the name of the good of the people they are supposed to represent.  A world in which our children’s education is left in the hands of a man who hires fools, pretenders, and Death Eaters to teach the next generation of witches and wizards.

Allow me to explain these accusations.

In my first year at Hogwarts, my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was possessed by the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who].  This incident alone forces me to wonder, did Albus Dumbledore intentionally endanger myself and the rest of the students or was the “greatest wizard of our time” actually unaware of the situation?  I don’t think either option is very comforting.  Near the end of that year, that Defense professor, acting under the orders of Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] attempted to kill me for the second time.  I was lucky enough to destroy his host before he could succeed.  It was only after I had done so that the headmaster arrived.

In my second year at Hogwarts a _first year student_ was possessed by a dark artifact created by the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who].  This student, unwittingly acting under the compulsion of the artifact, opened the infamous Chamber of Secrets and unleashed a _basilisk_ on the unfortunate students.  While Albus Dumbledore did nothing more than advise students to avoid being out after curfew or travel the corridors alone, and the Ministry arrested an innocent man, myself and my friends were able to discover the nature of the beast.  At twelve years old, it fell to _me_ to slay a millennium old basilisk and save the first year student who had been possessed.  Through a large measure of luck, no one was killed that year, though a number of students did spend time petrified, some for the majority of the year.

Of course, I cannot forget Gilderoy Lockhart, that year’s Defense professor.  Not only did he fail to teach us anything that year, but attempted to do a complete Obliviate on myself and a fellow second year.  If not for his mistake in making his attempt with a broken wand, I would have ended up in the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo’s, and the basilisk would have continued its attacks on the students.

Frankly, it baffles me that the headmaster retained his position in the wake of these events.  The Ministry released the man they had wrongly imprisoned, though he was granted no reparations, nor even a formal apology for the mistake.  In fact, the only person who suffered in the wake of these events was Lord Lucius Malfoy, who was removed from the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors as a result of being the only adult who had actively tried to do something about what was happening in the school that year.  I suppose this is the inherent danger in being the one man brave enough to stand up to Albus Dumbledore to try to do what is right.

In my third year at Hogwarts, of course, my godfather, Sirius Black, escaped from Azkaban in an attempt to bring justice to Peter Pettigrew, who had been pictured in the Daily Prophet in his animagus form.  A form that Sirius had recognized.  As a result of this breakout, the Ministry made the decision to send _dementors_ to Hogwarts.  What many of you probably do not know, is that one of these dementors nearly Kissed me on the train ride to school that year.  They were, allegedly, searching the train for Sirius Black, when one came to the compartment I was in.  If not for the purely random chance that resulted in my being in the same compartment with Remus Lupin, the man who would be my Defense professor that year, I would have lost my soul before the year even started.

Near the end of that year, I discovered Pettigrew’s lies, Sirius Black’s innocence, and very nearly lost my soul a second time when approximately one hundred dementors attacked not only my godfather, but myself.  I only survived that time because Professor Lupin had taught me the Patronus Charm that year, and because I am fortunate enough to have conjured it with enough power to drive away so many dementors at once.

And what came of that year?  Professor Lupin, who was responsible for saving my life twice in one year, and who was the first Defense professor of my time at Hogwarts who had actually taught us anything, was fired when it was revealed that he was a werewolf.  I know what you may be thinking.  Werewolves are considered dangerous dark creatures.  Yet he never took any action designed to bring harm to myself or any other student.  That is something that I cannot say for the two previous Defense professors, nor the subsequent two.

In my fourth year, of course, was the Triwizard Tournament.  And yet another example of the headmaster’s ability to hire Defense professors who would see me dead.  That year’s professor was actually Bartemius Crouch Jr, a Death Eater, though he spent the year polyjuiced to appear as former auror Alastor Moody.

Again, I find myself concerned for the actions of our headmaster.  Dumbledore has known Alastor Moody for more than twenty years.  He is also a master of Legilimency and an allegedly intelligent man.  So how did he fail to notice that his long-time friend was being impersonated?  Was it ignorance or something more malign?  And which of those options is really worse?

It was Mr. Crouch, in his guise, who put my name into the Goblet of Fire that year, which he confessed to me just minutes before he was Kissed without so much as a trial.  A “mistake”, Minister Fudge called it.  I doubt I am the only one concerned that our Minister could make such a mistake as to cost a man his soul.

At the end of that year, upon the culmination of the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament, I faced the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who] for the third time.  Peter Pettigrew murdered fellow competitor Cedric Diggory before using my blood in a ritual to return Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] to a physical body.

After managing to escape with my life, I met Minister Fudge, who listened to my explanation of the night’s events, then chose to call me an attention-seeking liar rather than face his own greatest fear.  That Lord [You-Know-Who] may actually be back.  It was the beginning of his year-long campaign to discredit me, lie to the public, along with himself, and generally make my life miserable.

In the spirit of this quest, Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, dispatched two dementors to the neighborhood in which I spend my summers.  Their orders?  To locate and Kiss me.  This was confessed to me by Umbridge herself minutes before she attempted to use the Cruciatus Curse on me two months ago.

After I used the Patronus Charm to drive away the dementors that had attempted to Kiss my muggle cousin and myself, I was contacted by the Improper Use of Underage Magic Department at the Ministry and scheduled for a hearing to address my use of the Patronus Charm in the presence of a muggle.

The morning of my scheduled hearing, the time and location was changed at the last minute.  I did not receive an official notice of this change, but was lucky enough to have arrived at the Ministry early and was able to sprint all the way to the new location just as they were beginning without me.  Rather than a hearing, it had become a trial, in Courtroom 10 before the entire Wizengamot.  That’s right.  A case of Underage Magic was being tried by the full Wizengamot.  Madam Umbridge and Minister Fudge made a valiant effort to slant the case and get me expelled and my wand snapped for acting in self-defense.  Indeed, Azkaban was even mentioned.

And why did they do this?  Because I had told a truth they did not want to hear.

It was largely luck that saved me again.

That year at Hogwarts, Madam Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to Cornelius Fudge, the very woman who’d attempted to kill me, and then see me expelled, was appointed by the Minister as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.  I will spare you the details that any student of Hogwarts last year could convey, but in addition to turning Hogwarts into a dictatorial prison in which we could not even send or receive letters without Madam Umbridge reading them first, she forced myself and many other students to use a Blood Quill to write lines in her detentions.

To this day, I have the words, “I will not tell lies” scarred into the back of my right hand.  And what lies did I tell?  That Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] was back, of course.

Toward the end of the year, she became obsessively convinced that myself and some of my friends were part of some Machiavellian plot against the Ministry – something which was completely untrue – and brought all of us into her office one evening.  First, she attempted to procure Veritaserum with which to question me – illegally, I may add.

When Professor Severus Snape – Potions Master at Hogwarts – refused to provide her an unauthorized vial of the regulated substance, she announced her intention to use the Cruciatus Curse to question me.  If not for the quick thinking of one of my friends, I do not know what she may have done, as I obviously could not give her answers I did not have about illicit activities that did not exist.

So what do I believe in?  I believe that there is something very wrong in our world that I could have a history such as this before my sixteenth birthday.  I believe that we need to take a closer look at the people who would lead us.  And I believe that we need to stop and actually _think_ before we choose a side in this war.

This is not a clash between Good and Evil, because I know for a fact that Albus Dumbledore is not the epitome of all of that is good and right in the world.  As much as he may wish us to believe it.  Is he a villain, or just a senile old man?  I don’t know, but I hope I am not the only one capable of recognizing his failures and his flaws, for they are many, and I know I am not the only to have suffered for his machinations.  I am not the only one who will continue to suffer if we continue to turn a blind eye to his misdeeds.

And then we must consider the opposite side of this war.  The Dark Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named].  Please allow me to state first that I am not saying that I agree with His methods, nor His values.  I do wonder though, what _are_ His values?  Does anyone really know?  I know what Dumbledore has told me.  I know what certain purebloods have sneered in passing.  But are we mistaken to take as fact that these comments truly and accurately represent that for which the Dark Lord [You-Know-Who] is striving?

I know that many of you have lost loved ones in this war or the previous, and I will restate that I do not agree with what [You-Know-Who] has done in pursuit of his goals.  I merely think that the state of the wizarding world quite removed from anything [You-Know-Who] has done, is a sad and uninspiring thing.  I think that we _need_ to change.  As far as I can tell, Lord [He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named] is the only person in Wizarding Britain who has actually tried to change anything in the last few decades.

Maybe he’s gone about it all wrong.  Maybe he _is_ the furthest thing from what we need.  But how do we _know_ that?  Why do we fight a man that we don’t understand?

So I would like to pose these questions to Lord [You-Know-Who], because I seriously doubt that anyone’s ever bothered to ask.  What is it that you actually want?  For what do you fight?  What does the future look like to you if allowed to continue as it has?  What would it look like if you won this war?  And finally, if there are those who would like to support you, but are not necessarily interested in fighting, what could they expect?  How could they reach you?  Would you protect them?  Reward their loyalty?  Would you do what Dumbledore and the Ministry have proved they will not?

Who are you really, Lord [You-Know-Who]?  Are you the villain?

_And those chilling questions conclude Harry Potter’s Address to the Wizarding World.  Will He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named respond?  Will Albus Dumbledore address the accusations our Savior has lain at his feet?  Will the Ministry be able to account for their misdeeds?_

_Harry Potter has taken the initiative to raise many questions that we, the people of the Wizarding World, probably should have asked many years ago.  And he’s answered some questions that we really should have asked him._

Exclusive by Rita Skeeter


	2. Chapter 2

****

* * *

**o APWBD o**

Albus Dumbledore was white as a ghost as he stared blindly at his copy of that morning’s Daily Prophet.  He ignored the portraits that were reading over his shoulder and then whispering to the others what they could make out of the article on the front page.

Albus knew that Harry had been angry after the events at the Department of Mysteries.  The three monitoring devices he still had not been able to fix were ample proof of that.  Yes, Harry had been angry, but Albus never could have expected that _this_ would be the boy’s response.  He had been so sure that the unfortunate events of that night had served only to cement the boy’s dedication to the Light’s cause.  Instead, the boy had _questioned_ it.  He’d questioned it, and he’d come to some extremely alarming conclusions.

How in Merlin’s name had it come to this?  Where had he gone wrong with that boy?  He’d known that Harry’s childhood wasn’t a happy one.  That had been the entire point.  Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to grow up happy and loved.  He was supposed to grow up craving a love that he could never grasp.  A love that he would then learn to bestow unquestioningly upon any and all who would offer him that which he so much craved.  _That_ was the plan. 

He was supposed to be easily led.  Eager to risk his life for those he saw as innocent, for any who would treat him with kindness.  He was supposed to embrace all that was Light and right in the world while learning to hate with a burning passion all that was Dark and wrong.  Severus and the Malfoy boy had leapt at the chance – however unknowingly – to represent the Dark in Harry’s eyes, and it had seemed to work.  Harry had never trusted Severus and had learned to loathe Draco Malfoy before he’d even arrived at Hogwarts.  They had introduced him to all that was wrong with the Dark, and Harry had responded as he should.  At least… he’d always _seemed_ to do so.

When had it gone wrong?

Surely it could not have happened before this year.  Albus was certain he would have noticed if his plan had gone wrong before that.  Perhaps he’d been wrong to distance himself from the boy this year, but it had been necessary.  Tom had gained too much of a hold on the boy’s mind.  Harry had been angry and unbalanced all year.  Despite creating the distance between them, Albus had been watching him more closely than ever, but he’d still missed it.

Tom must have affected the boy far more severely than Albus had realized.  He had thought, after the failed possession, that Tom would have retreated from Harry’s mind, but what if he hadn’t?  It was the only explanation that seemed feasible.  This article was far more cunning than anything Harry was capable of, and it was far too skillfully crafted for Harry to have managed on his own.

Without lying once that Albus could discern, Harry had managed to paint Albus and the Ministry as villains while making Voldemort seem misunderstood and almost… _valiant_.  That feat was incredibly disturbing in and of itself.  The impact this was no doubt going to have on the wizarding public was terrifying.

With a sigh, Albus set the article aside.  He needed to start on damage control immediately.  And he needed to figure out what to do with a Harry Potter who was obviously being greatly influenced by Tom, and undoubtedly on the way to being Dark himself.

* * *

**o HG o**

 

Hermione Granger sat in her bed, arms curled around her knees, Daily Prophet forgotten on the Duvet by her feet, her eyes unfocused on the window across her bedroom.  The combination of fear, anger, guilt, and disillusionment had left her feeling strangely numb.  She didn’t even realize that there were tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

She had been friends with Harry for five years, but after reading that, she felt like she’d never really known him at all, which left her feeling slightly betrayed, but also terribly guilty.  For the first time, she realized that _she_ had never bothered the ask Harry the questions he’d chosen to answer for the whole of Wizarding Britain.  Like so many others, she’d simply assumed that she knew the answers.

She’d obviously been wrong.

And she was ashamed of herself.  Ever since she’d been introduced into the wizarding world, she’d made the same mistakes as so many others.  She’d made assumptions about the Boy-Who-Lived based on what she’d read in books written by people who had never even met him.  And she’d not shed all of those assumptions, even after meeting and befriending him.  Not even five years later.  She’d heard things about his relatives that had made her think they weren’t necessarily “nice” people, but the way he described them here…  How had she been so blind?

And then there were the assumptions she’d made about the headmaster and the Ministry.  She’d been raised to respect authority figures.  Police were the good guys.  They protected people.  Criminals were the bad guys.  Government always acted for the benefit of the public to the best of their ability.  Teachers protected and cared for the children they taught.

Again, she’d been wrong.

She’d been right there!  She’d _lived_ through these things!  How had she never seen it until Harry had spelled it out in a national newspaper?  She’d never been so ashamed of herself as she was now.  Dumbledore had used and manipulated Harry.  And herself by extension.  The Ministry…  Well, honestly, she’d mostly been disillusioned about them last year, but she’d still been inclined to blame it on a few individuals.  Namely Fudge and Umbridge.  And Lucius Malfoy.

She realized now that, though those few were at the head of the problem, it was not only them.  It was the institution.  Something was inherently wrong with the government as a whole for so many awful atrocities to have happened, and not just recently, but at least since the last time Voldemort was in power.

And finally, she was very frightened, and very angry with Harry.  Hermione was _not_ stupid.  Though she recognized the truth in much of what he’d said, she could see that he’d presented everything with a slant on the truth.  Oh, it was all true as far as she could tell.  Considering that she’d been there or been his confidant in regard to most of those events, she probably knew the truth better than most, and she could see what he’d done.

He’d deliberately spelled out the faults of Dumbledore and the Ministry while somehow making Lucius Malfoy seem like the good guy and making Voldemort’s actions almost… justified!  She wasn’t sure if she should be concerned or disgusted by that.  Did he really believe that?  Was he honestly considering joining Voldemort?

And if he was, what did that mean for her?  Voldemort hated muggles like her parents and muggleborns like her.  He and his followers would kill them on sight.  Did Harry justify _that_?  Did their friendship mean anything to him anymore?  Would he even be upset if they were killed?

Why was Harry doing this?  What had changed?  Was he still her friend?

As much as she hated to admit it, she was almost more afraid of losing her friend than of him going Dark.  Harry was the first friend she’d ever had.  And though she considered Ron her friend now – sort of – she knew that he wouldn’t be her friend if Harry wasn’t.  Harry was what held them together.  Harry was her friend and he was Ron’s, and they two were only friends because of that.  Ron would never stick around her if Harry didn’t.  As much as she hated it, she knew it was true.  Even if they both tried, Ron would get sick of her lecturing about homework and she’d get sick of his skiving off, and that would be that.

Without Harry, she would be alone again, and she didn’t want to be alone.  She really, _really_ didn’t.

“Hermione, honey?”

She started and looked up to where her father was standing in her doorway.  She hadn’t even heard him knock, and she knew he’d never come into her room without knocking.

He got one look at her face and his eyes widened as he rushed to sit at her side.  “Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked, already pulling her into a hug.

There was no way to answer him, but that hug meant more to her than she could say.  With a gasp, she latched onto her father and let herself weep out all of her anger and fear and shame.

She knew that she wasn’t supposed to write to Harry this summer, but she had to.  She had to know if he still liked her.  She had to apologize for being so foolish.

* * *

 

**o SS o**

Severus Snape glared at the Daily Prophet laid out next to his forgotten breakfast.  He had no idea what to make of Potter’s little tell-all, and that was annoying him to no end.  It went blatantly against everything that he thought he understood about the brat.  In fact, if the events were as true as they seemed to be…  It was disgustingly likely that he had misjudged the boy.

And that thought alone was giving him a headache.

Severus was an _excellent_ judge of character.  He was a _master_ of reading people.  He’d never have survived as a spy if he were anything less.  Hell, he’d spent months inside that brat’s mind last year!  _How_ had he missed _this_?  It was _infuriating_.

Even as he asked the questions though, he knew the answers.  And that just made it all the worse.  Severus had made up his mind about Harry Potter long before he’d ever met him.  He’d believed the boy to be the father incarnate.  Except with mountains of fame ensuring that his arrogance would reach levels even James had never managed.  He’d _convinced_ himself that that was who the boy would be, and because of that assumption, he’d filtered his every observation of the boy through that erroneous belief, _twisted_ the truth until it fit.

The fact that this had gone on for _five years_ was horribly embarrassing.  It was so humiliating, that he wished nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t reached these conclusions and go on believing as he always had.  Of course, he wasn’t _quite_ pathetic enough to lower himself to that level of pettiness.

So he was left with no choice but to admit – to _himself_ , in _private_ – that he’d been wrong.

Harry Potter could not be more different from his father.  That was now blindingly obvious.  As much as he wanted to believe that this whole thing had somehow been orchestrated by the Dark Lord, he really didn’t believe that.  Though far more intelligent and eloquent than he’d have expected, the article _had_ been written by Potter.  Severus had read enough of the brat’s essays over the years to recognize that much without doubt.  And he was sure that he’d have heard _something_ about this from Lucius if it had been a plot by the Dark Lord.

With the way Potter painted Lucius in such a… complimentary light, he was absolutely positive that Lucius would have found a way to obscurely brag had he known, even if he’d been sworn to silence on the matter.

And then there was the way Severus himself had been represented.  Despite Severus’ involvement in several of the described events, despite the way he’d always gone out of his way to demean the boy, not one mention of even questionable behavior had been indicated in that article.  In fact, the only time he was mentioned at all was to make it seem as if Severus had worked to uphold the law and protect the students from Umbridge’s insanity.  And he was sure that Potter was aware of the Veritaserum that Severus _had_ previously supplied that woman.

That alone proved how mistaken he’d been about the boy.  The Harry Potter Severus had _thought_ he’d known, would have leapt at any opportunity to vilify Severus Snape in the eyes of the public.

And to make matters worse…  Potter had gone out of his way to tell the truth while making it all come across quite differently in many respects.  Most notably with regard to the Dark Lord.  Potter had addressed the Dark Lord respectfully every single time.  He’d glazed over most of the Dark Lord’s misdeeds, choosing instead to focus on a few dead or lesser Death Eaters, Dumbledore, and the Ministry as the villains of his tale.  Potter actually managed to convey _respect_ for the Dark Lord, without making himself seem Dark.  And he’d done this in such a way that a lot of the sheep that were the wizarding public were likewise going to be questioning things they’d long taken for fact.

There were two very notable things Severus was forced to take from this.  First, Potter was a _lot_ more Slytherin than he could have ever guessed – more Slytherin than a lot of Slytherins, actually.  And second, if Potter hadn’t decided to side with the Dark Lord, then he was seriously considering it.

Merlin’s sweaty balls.  Severus was going to have to completely reassess everything he’d taken for fact about Harry Potter.  Sometimes he _really_ hated his life.

* * *

 

**o RL o**

Remus Lupin stared at the paper in front of him.  Stunned by what he’d just read.

_This_ was how Harry had reacted to Sirius’ death?  While Remus had been wallowing in his own self-pity for losing his last and best friend, Harry had been systematically evaluating his life and drawing some highly unexpected conclusions.  Unexpected, but not categorically wrong.

Harry had raised some very interesting, and very true points.  Points that Remus had been deliberately avoiding letting himself think about for a long time now.  There _was_ something decidedly wrong with the wizarding world.  As a Dark creature, Remus knew that better than most.  But Albus had earned his trust when he’d allowed him to attend Hogwarts as a child.  Since then, Remus had been deliberately closing his eyes to everything he didn’t want to see about the headmaster.

But he’d closed his eyes about Sirius, and about Harry.  And for those things, he could never forgive himself.  All he could do was ask Harry’s forgiveness.  And stand by his cub from now on.  No matter what.  He owned that much to Sirius.  To James and Lily.

Whatever Harry did next, Remus would help in any way he could.

* * *

 

**o GW o**

George Weasley exchanged a look with his twin as their dad finished reading aloud Harry’s article in the Burrow’s kitchen.  Even Ron seemed to have lost his appetite, and utter silence had fallen upon the normally boisterous room as soon as Dad had finished.

George wasn’t stupid.  No matter what their grades at Hogwarts suggested, the Weasley twins were geniuses and they both knew it.  It was part of the reason they did so poorly in school, actually.  It was so much more entertaining to keep everyone guessing.  After all, Bill and Charlie had already proven that the Weasley family had a surplus of brilliance, and Percy was just obnoxious about it.  George and Fred much preferred to be mysterious.

Today, they knew that their enigmatic little benefactor had finally outgrown the shadows of his elders and stepped into the world as an adult in his own right.  And he’d chosen a side in the war that no one in the entire world – the twins included – could have expected.

A glance at Fred proved that he was thinking along the same lines.  Ickle Harrikins had finally grown up.  He’d thrown down his gauntlet at Dumbledore’s feet and offered the Dark Lord a truce if not an alliance.  And, hilariously, he’d done both on the front page of the bloody _Prophet_ in such a way that very few who didn’t know him personally would fully understand just what he was doing.

They both knew that this was a huge turning point in the war.  Depending on how Voldemort reacted, this could very well be the beginning of the end.  After all, Dumbledore was getting up there in years.  If Harry joined the Dark, could the headmaster really stand up against them – particularly if they managed to get even part of the Wizarding public to turn against him with articles like this?

They knew that their parents wouldn’t side against Dumbledore.  Arthur Weasley was a brilliant man, but he was loyal as a Hufflepuff, and he’d long since chosen his side.  Their mum, on the other hand, was generally too emotional to waste any time on things like logic or self-preservation.  Bill and Charlie, being out of the country, were unlikely to choose a side at all.  Percy had already thrown himself onto the side of the Ministry, which was just stupid, as that side wasn’t going to win no matter what.  Dumbledore would end up controlling it or Voldemort would.  But, well, that was Percy.

Ron obviously hadn’t comprehended the deeper meanings of Harry’s article yet – not surprising, as he was not the sharpest knife, that one.  Considering his history of abandoning Harry whenever he felt particularly threatened, he really could end up going either way.

Then there was little Ginny, who was so often overlooked as the little sister.  Yet right now, she was staring at the table in front of her with her lips pinched tight and her eyes narrowed in deep thought.  George glanced at Fred again and understanding passed between them.  Ginny was turning into one scary witch.  She clearly understood as much as they had from that article.  They didn’t know which side she’d come out on, but she clearly understood that the time to choose between Harry and Dumbledore had come.

This may very well tear the Weasley family apart once and for all, but the time had come.  With a glance at his twin, George got up from the still silent table and headed for the door.  They needed to talk this over, and then they had a letter to write to their favorite little hero – or anti-hero as the case may be.

* * *

 

**o LL o**

Luna Lovegood smiled a small, pleased smile as she tucked the Daily Prophet into her school trunk.  Her father, of course, wouldn’t want her to be reading that paper.  He didn’t think that they ever talked about anything interesting, and he didn’t trust what they said.  Luna had secretly been getting the paper delivered directly to her bedroom all summer, since she’d wanted to keep track of what they said about Harry.  She hadn’t expected him to send a letter to the _Prophet_ , but she was glad that he had.

She was very glad that Harry had finally escaped from the wrackspurts Dumbledore had set on him when he was a baby.  Now that Harry could finally think clearly, she knew that it had begun.  The beginning of the end.

Her smile broadened as she skipped down the stairs to join her father for breakfast.  This was going to be an interesting year.

* * *

 

**o MM o**

Minerva topped off her morning tea with Firewhisky and took a healthy swallow before letting her eyes stray toward the morning paper again.  She was furious.  The only thing keeping her in her seat was the fact that she couldn’t decide who she was more angry with.  She wasn’t sure where to direct her anger.

She was furious with Harry for writing that article.  She was furious with the people who were supposed to be guarding Harry for somehow letting him meet with Rita Skeeter without realizing he’d even left the house.  Honestly, what were they there for if they couldn’t even keep track of the boy?!  She was furious with Fudge, Umbridge, the Dursleys, and everyone else who’d ever tried to hurt that boy.  She was furious with herself for not being there for him when he’d clearly needed help, both with the Dursleys and throughout his time at Hogwarts.  Most of all, she was furious with Albus for putting the boy with those muggles, and herself for allowing it.

Oh, she had more than enough rage to go around.  She just had to figure out where to start.

She finished her tea and glanced up in the direction of Albus’ office.  Well, she figured it was Albus and Tom who started all of this.  One of those two was within her reach.

With a decisive nod, she gripped her wand tightly and started toward Albus’ office.

* * *

 

**o RS o**

Rufus Scrimgeour paced restlessly across his office, throwing frequent glares toward his copy of the morning paper.  Damn that boy!  Rufus had been in office less than two weeks and Harry Potter had already become a menace!  He understood now why Fudge had been so afraid of the boy, even if Potter hadn’t pulled any stunts like this during Cornelius’ time in office.

The only saving grace was that Potter had said nothing against him specifically, either in his former capacity as head of the auror department or his current capacity as Minister.  That meant that he could still make this work in his favor.  He just needed to act quickly.  But he also had to be careful.  Potter clearly needed to be handled with care.  If he made the wrong decision today, he may very well be starring in Potter’s next smear campaign.

Merlin, did it rankle to be at the mercy of a sixteen-year-old.  Unfortunately, the public’s opinion of the Ministry was already shaky while their view of Harry Potter was at an all-time high thanks to Fudge’s blunder and You-Know-Who’s return.

Yes, he needed to talk to Potter.  And soon.  But not until he knew how to handle him. 

With that in mind, he returned to his desk to read the article again.  Hopefully, he could figure out the boy’s mindset.  And use it against him.

* * *

 

**o LM o**

Lucius Malfoy choked on his tea when he saw the headline on the front of the morning paper.  He studiously ignored the curious gazes of his wife and son as he hastily vanished the spilled tea, then gave his full attention to the Daily Prophet.

He had to read through the lengthy article twice before he was convinced that he’d properly comprehended it.  He found himself unable to repress his smirk as he considered the implications of that article.  When a quiet chuckle escaped him, he slid the paper down the table to his son, who was almost bouncing in his seat with the need to know what it said.

While Draco and Narcissa read the article, Lucius leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly in amazement.  He was certain that he’d be summoned at some point today.  The Dark Lord must have been reading the same article over his own breakfast.  Imagining his master’s reaction to Potter’s words was tugging Lucius’ lips into a smirk again.

Whatever the boy had said, it was clear to Lucius that he had already chosen his side.  Whether the Dark Lord used the opening Potter had left or spat upon it hardly mattered.  If Dumbledore managed to survive the political disemboweling that Potter had just done him, he was going to be far too busy covering his own ass to be much threat to the Dark Lord in the near future.  And his effectiveness would be limited as long as the public continued to question his every action.

And…  Oh.  The way that Potter had painted Lucius the hero of those disastrous events concerning the diary, when he _knew_ that the boy was aware that Lucius had been the one responsible for that entire mess…  That was a peace offering if he’d ever seen one.

Yes, he would be most interested to see what the Dark Lord decided to do about this.

“Father,” Draco’s voice drew Lucius attention down the table.  “Did Potter actually write this?  Of his own free will?”

“I believe he did, Draco,” Lucius smirked.

“ _Why_?” Draco asked, clearly bewildered.

Lucius shook his head, “That I don’t know, Dragon.  But I believe he’s chosen his side in this war.”

Draco blinked.  “ _Our_ side?”

Lucius hummed an affirmative.

Draco looked at the paper again, clearly stunned beyond words.

“How do you think our Lord will respond?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“I don’t know, love,” Lucius admitted, “but I am most eager to find out.”

* * *

 

**o LV o**

Lord Voldemort had been slowly pacing the width of his study for the last two hours.  Since he’d finished reading that article.  He cast frequent glances toward where it yet rested on his desk, but shrugged off the urge to read it again.  He knew perfectly well that the words would not have changed, however impossible it seemed that he’d read them in the first place.

Lord Voldemort was a brilliant man.  A genius, in fact.  But for all his genius, he could not have predicted this.  Even after spending so much of the previous year in Potter’s head.  Ever since that fiasco at the Ministry, the link between them had been more alive than ever, but utterly blank to him.  He could feel the boy, but he could not access anything through that link.  He could only assume the stress of the possession had damaged the link, though it was also possible that it had merely been stressed and was in the process of regenerating.

At the moment, he found that highly inconvenient.  Now, when he wanted more than ever to enter that boy’s mind, it was denied him.

He impatiently cast away his growing irritation.  It served no purpose.  The fact was that Potter had shocked him more soundly than anyone had since…  Well, since the boy had reflected a killing curse at barely a year of age.  Everything he understood about the boy’s mindset was not only suspect, but irrelevant in light of that article.

Potter had extended him a very obvious olive branch with that article.  He was giving Voldemort a chance…  No, the boy had actually _challenged_ him to play this little game he’d started.  And he’d be damned if he wasn’t intrigued by the possibilities.  He’d have to change his strategies in the war considerably, which would be annoying and time consuming, but the opportunity that Potter had presented him…

A smile slipped over his almost lipless mouth and he summoned Severus and Lucius.  If he was going to play this game, he’d have to strike very quickly, before anyone had a chance to recover.

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my work in fan fiction, I welcome anyone who is inspired by it to use my concepts and plot in any manner that strikes your fancy. I demand only that you give me credit where it is due. Beyond that, I encourage anyone interested to make my ideas your own. You can pick up from where I left off, particularly if a work is unfinished, or alter the plot so that it better suits you, or just pick and choose a few bits that inspired you.
> 
> If you do utilize any of my plots or concepts, I do request that you send me a brief message and let me know where I may find your story because I would love to read it.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed and I do appreciate every comment.


End file.
